


A Discussion

by WhizzerGoingDown



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Trans Mycroft, mystrade, newish relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26219455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhizzerGoingDown/pseuds/WhizzerGoingDown
Summary: Mycroft and Greg have been dating for two months with Christmas around the corner, Mycroft is scared for Greg to visit his childhood home.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	A Discussion

Sitting across the breakfast bar in his kitchen, Mycroft Holmes looked uncharacteristically nervous. He wasn’t an anxious person, not anymore, not since he grew out of being such as a child. In an attempt to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong, and more so to convince himself that it would all be okay, he slowly counted the dark grey tiles on his wall- 

122, 123, 124- 

His gradual counting was interrupted, and the government official was yet to decide whether it presented itself as a blessing or a curse. This conversation had been daunting on Mycroft for a while, and it should have been said long before now. 

“Are you alright, darlin’?” Gregory Lestrade queried as he peered his head around the corner. He stood in a borrowed dressing gown, silky and a rich purple, which he never expected to suit him, but if he did say so himself- he looked majorly handsome. 

The two men had been slowly courting for the previous 2 months. Traditional. True to form. They had been to plenty of coffee shops and had many a stroll down the hectic London roads, nobody cared in Hyde Park for who you were. Everyone was too busy themselves, running late, running wild, running the dog. 

Greg had been staying in the spare room, he didn’t wish to intrude, sleeping together in both senses of the phrase had yet to be discussed- and whenever he felt like it was going to be- Mycroft was sure to change the direction of the conversation. It didn’t bother him. Not yet. This was new, and Sherlock had been clear to tell him that his brother was an ‘intolerable hermit, incapable of love.’ 

The reclusive bit, the detective inspector could understand- he had always seemed- aloof, and Greg could tell he was the sort of man to enjoy, even prefer, his own company. Who could blame him? Mycroft was bloody good company. But Gregory didn’t believe any of the rest. 

Mycroft closed his eyes, allowing a minute to elapse as he gathered together his thoughts, they were rather loud in his mind. 

“I don’t want you to come next week, anymore.” Mycroft stated, perhaps more bluntly then he would have liked. 

Greg was definitely confused, last night whilst they were sat on his sofa together, eating posh tubs of ice cream, and pretending to watch a Bond film, Mycroft had been more than eager for the other to go. Christmas at the Holmes’ would be an interesting prospect- 

“Okay, no worries,” Greg smiled gently, attempting to reassure him that that was okay, as he walked around, sitting opposing the younger man. 

“Are you not going to ask why?” 

“I admit, I am curious darlin’, but you can tell me in your own time, and I ain’t going to ask you constantly ‘bout it. When you’re ready. And it don’t matter if that’s never.” 

Mycroft looked the other up and down, he wanted to say- but he looked askance, curling his toes before gazing back over at the man who’s smile radiated sheer joy back at him, the man who he had began to let in to his own supposedly frozen heart, the man whose presence never failed to make his day, the man whose lexicon and tone made him inwardly chuckle. The man who he was growing to love. 

That’s when he realised. He was terrified. Petrified to lose this growing endeavour. 

“Tea?” Mycroft asked, and Gregory responded positively to such. This may be easier with a hot drink, Mycroft tried to reason with himself, but he knew that deep down he was merely delaying the inevitable. 

The kettle hadn’t even boiled when Mycroft Holmes, who was supposedly supposed to be entirely in control of his voice, who usually filtered everything with perfect care, blurted out, “I didn’t want you to see me as a child—- there are many photographs- all disgusting- that my mother refuses to get rid of, and she would be bound to show you- that is if you hadn’t run out after seeing my school photographs plastered on the wall of the staircase.” 

Grget listened to the other with intent, before responding when he was certain the other had finished, “I wouldn’t look away because of how you used to look, Mycroft—“ 

“You don’t understand!” The younger man interrupted, abandoning the thought of tea as he sat up on the counter, he was entirely deflated, and let out an elongated sigh as he placed his fingers on his temples. 

Greg stood up and walked slowly over to the other, before hoisting himself up onto the marble surface, “Help me to understand, darlin’,” he whispered, and extremely cautiously wrapped his arm around Mycroft.

Neither spoke. The only sound that echoed across the room was the gentle ticking of Mycroft’s pocket watch, Greg had never paid much notice to it before, but right now it was prominent, marking the slow passing of time, and his own hopelessness as the worry across Mycroft’s face refused to dissipate. 

“Gregory-“ Mycroft mumbled, feeling and looking meekish, “You can leave me, if you wish, if after what I tell you, you can just get up and go, and I will know that this relationship is terminated- pray don’t say anything- I won’t be able to bear it…” He began, and winced at what was coming, he was 42 now, and had been saying this since he was 17– he was foolish then to think that it would be an easier process in the future. 

“I-“ His voice faltered, that was certainly a rare thing with Mycroft, “You mean a lot to me— but I, I was not born Mycroft Holmes. I was born female, Gregory, I am a transgender man.” He managed to say, a lump still in the back of his throat. 

Greg did not move to leave, he simply held the other man closer. “That’s okay.” He simply said, “I’m proud of you for telling me.” 

Mycroft blinked thrice, “Sorry- are you not going to-“ 

“I’m not going to leave, I really like you Myc- that doesn’t change anything,” Greg said as he stepped down from the counter and held out his hand for the other to take. 

Mycroft held onto him, resting his head on his shoulder, and began to cry, “Thank you— Thank you, thank you thank you,” he mumbled into him.

“I love you.” Mycroft looked up and stated, with a smile- that was the first time he had said that to him- but he meant it, with every inch of his being.


End file.
